Fine of the Month: November 2007

(Susanna Annesley)

1. The Impact of Magna Carta on Widows: evidence from the Fine Rolls 1216–1225

Over the academic year 2006–2007, several students reading for the MA in Medieval
History at King’s College London wrote essays based on material in the fine rolls. One
of these by Julie Kanter – The Four
Knights' System and the Evidence for it in the Fine Rolls – appeared as the
Fine of the Month for March 2007. Over the next few months it is planned to publish more
of these essays starting, for the fine for November, with Susanna Annesley’s ‘The Impact
of Magna Carta on Widows: evidence form the Fine Rolls 1216–1225’. Susanna, funded by
the AHRC, is now working on a doctorate at King’s on the countesses of thirteenth
century England.

1.1.
Introduction

⁋1In his definitive study on the fraught political situation leading up to Magna Carta,
Sir James Holt asserted that the ideals enshrined within the charter, ‘took root during
the minority of Henry III’.1 Primarily concerned with clauses
seven and eight of Magna Carta,2 which aimed to protect widows by exempting them
from paying for access to their dower and inheritance, and from forced remarriage at the
hands of the king, I hope to ascertain the truth of Holt’s assertion in relation to
relicts. Concentrating on the presence of widows in the fine rolls, between the first
issue of the Great Charter in 1215 and the definitive and final version of 1225, I will
focus firstly on entries related to the remarriage of widows, followed by those related
to dower. I hope to reveal the impact that these new provisions had on their lives, and
how far practice conformed with the new laws laid down in the charter. Finally, although
not directly stipulated in Magna Carta, I will survey the fine roll evidence which bears
on the ability of widows to gain control of wardships, thus placing the position of
relicts within a wider social context.

⁋2Before answering such questions it is first necessary to turn to the secondary and
primary source material on which this paper will be based. In Holt’s Magna Carta, scant
attention is paid to its effect on women, with reference to widows appearing on less
than ten pages all-told. More recently, the ever-growing interest in the history of
medieval women has heralded some important contributions to this field of research.
Janet Loengard deserves particular mention for her two seminal articles relating to
dower, both before and after the implementation of Magna Carta.3 Yet, surprisingly, thus far no detailed study has
been attempted which analyses the impact of clauses seven and eight on widows in the
immediate aftermath of the charter’s introduction. It is crucial to analyse the decade
leading up to the final draft of the charter in 1225 in order to ascertain the degree to
which the new laws in Magna Carta were being obeyed and enforced, and to what extent the
provisions for women were cementing themselves into the political and social fabric of
Henry’s reign.

⁋3In order to undertake such a study I shall utilise the fine rolls of Henry III’s
minority government. Their first purpose ‘was to note the money promised the king in
return for concessions and favours.’ These included grants of marriages and wardships,
and permission for baronial widows to stay single or marry as they
wished.’4 They also reveal to
what extent widows had to pay to gain control over their dower, inheritance and
maritagium. As such the fine rolls are ‘central to the study of
royal patronage [and] family structures’5 on which this paper will be based. There are, however, inevitable limitations to
a study that relies entirely on one source. The fine rolls relate largely to the widows
of tenants-in-chief, as those of under-tenants would fine directly with their lord. As
such they represent only a select and elite group of relicts. Furthermore, while the
rolls reveal the increasing number of writs purchased by widows to initiate cases under
the early common-law procedures, they do not show details of the litigation process
itself. For this important and illuminating material one must turn instead to the eyre
rolls and bench rolls. The simple and formulaic language in the rolls also conceals the
complex series of relationships and negotiations that could lie behind the entries, a
point that will be discussed further in relation to a widow’s potential role behind-the
scenes in the arrangements of wardship.

1.2.
The Remarriage of Widows and the Effects of Magna Carta in the Fine Rolls

⁋1In clause eight of the 1215 Magna Carta the barons asserted that ‘no widow shall be
compelled to marry so long as she wishes to live without a husband, provided that she
gives security that she will not marry without [the crown’s] consent if she holds of us,
or without the consent of the lord of whom she holds, if she holds of
another.’6 The wording of this chapter was carried,
fundamentally unaltered, throughout the three further re-issues of the charter in 1216,
1217 and 1225. This clause went much further than the ‘vague promise’7 in Henry I’s coronation charter not
to marry widows without their consent for, in theory, the king was now void of his power
to distrain them to do so.

⁋2If Henry felt frustrated by such limitations he could have laid the blame for ‘this
much-needed corrective’, not only on the behaviour of his rapacious father John, but
also on that of Richard I and Henry II before him. In the last year of his reign,
‘Richard’s sweep of eligible widows appears to have been little less than act of
extortion…the pipe rolls…[have] no fewer than 39 [new] entries showing fines made by
women not to marry or to marry as they chose.’8 However, it was following John’s succession in
1199 that payments for marriages and wardships are revealed in the fine rolls as part of
a calculated programme of ‘financial exploitation’,9 far exceeding previous reigns. For the ability to stay single or choose
their own husbands baronial widows were charged an average of £185 each, a situation
which occurred 149 in times in John’s reign. This is a marked increase on the
sixty-eight occasions averaging £144 under Richard.10 In a
particularly extreme example of 1212, the countess of Aumale offered the king £3,333 not
to be given in marriage for a fourth time.11 In Holt’s mind such proffers
reveal ‘one of the first great stages in the emancipation of women’, offering widows a
direct route to freedom from a forced marriage, and empowerment over their dower and
inheritance.12 He asserts that ‘to
let widows have their way was to encourage the acceptance of the principle that they
should have their way’, hence the seeds of chapters seven and eight were
sown.13 Yet it is important not to
underestimate the deep hostility and bloody conflict that led to Magna Carta. The
charter was, in large measure, born out of direct opposition to the extortions of the
crown, and fines related to marriage ranked high among the baron’s list of
grievances.14

⁋3This paper is, however, primarily concerned with the effects rather than the causes of
Magna Carta, and the former are immediately apparent in the fine rolls following John’s
death. In the roll of 1217–18 the importance of a widow’s consent to her remarriage is
stipulated in no uncertain terms. Henry de Neufmarché gave the king forty marks to have
as his wife a widow named Frethesenta, ‘if she wishes’. The entry goes on to state that
he should gain access to all the land of her inheritance without delay, ‘if she will
show her assent to this.’15
Thus, in a short entry consent and free choice have been emphasised twice. Likewise, in
the following year, ‘Otto son of William…made fine with the king by six palfreys’ to
have in marriage a widow named Matilda. Yet, he is only to have full seisin of her lands
if the sheriff of Buckinghamshire ‘can establish by Matilda’s letters patent that she
offers her assent and will to this’.16 However, the real significance of these two entries
lies in their peculiarity. Nowhere else in the decade covered by this paper is any
widow’s consent specifically referred to again, making this pair of examples an
intriguing anomaly.17
The widow Frethesanta is identified by Sanders as an heiress in her own right, having
inherited a quarter of the barony of Hooton Pagnell in Yorkshire.18 Thus, it is possible that her wealth and status afforded
her a genuine bargaining power in the marriage. Yet, there is also something a little
ambiguous in the way that her consent is described. Neufmarché had already made his fine
with the king and set out a clear payment plan, yet from the language in the fine roll
entry it would appear that the certainty of Frethesenta’s consent had yet to be
ascertained. It does not state that having given her consent the fine was
levied, only ‘if she will give her assent to this’, which implies a speculative
element still at-hand in the negotiations. But, with the sheriff already being ordered
to take security from Henry for the sum, in order that Henry might gain immediate access
to her land, the references to her consent seem suspiciously like an after-thought in an
already-done deal.

⁋4Alongside these specific mentions of consent stand various instances in which widows
resemble commodities to be bought and sold. To cite one example, in the fine rolls of
1218-19 Margaret de Say obtained a writ ordering the sheriff to give her rightful dower
from the lands of her deceased husband Robert de Mortimer.19 It would seem that here we have a widow acting for
herself to secure her dower. It is also interesting to note that she is described by
what seems to be her natal name of ‘Say’ rather than as ‘Margaret, widow of Robert de
Mortimer’. Yet, only the following year William de Stuteville had made fine with the
king to take her as his wife ‘with all the lands and tenements that fall to her by
inheritance…without delay.’20 It is possible Margaret may have been grateful for the
protection offered by marriage. On the other hand, she may have regrettted a union which
wrenched from her grasp the freedom to control what now stood at two sets of dower and
her inheritance.21

⁋5Another quick remarriage is apparent in the fine rolls of 1217–18. The entry relates
to an £100 fine charged to Agnes and her first husband, Robert of Bassingham, so that
she might rightfully inherit half a barony from her deceased brother John of Odell.
However, it is actually William fitz Warin, ‘[the king’s] faithful man, to whom the king
has given Agnes in marriage’, who is liable for the fine with Agnes.22 As Agnes’s first husband died in 1218 she must have
only been single for a matter of months before her second betrothal.23 As in the case of Margaret de Say,
she may well have felt bitterly disappointed that she was unable to enjoy her
inheritance and dower free from the control of a new husband. But, with a relief fine of
£100 still hanging over her head she was hardly in a position to withhold her consent
for the second marriage from the minority government. Thus, while the king could no
longer force a widow to marry, it is clear that ‘consent’ was a murky and ambiguous term
which was not necessarily synonymous with freewill.

⁋6Further instances in which a widow’s consent to her remarriage is never raised appear
when recently married widows, or more specifically their new spouses, are fined for
marrying without the king’s licence.24 In a typical example from 1218-1219 ‘Thomas of
Gravenley…made fine with the king for 20 marks for having a pardon for [trespass]
because he took Joan…whose marriage pertained to the king, to wife without license.’
Having laid out the terms of his payments Thomas gained immediate access to Joan’s
inheritance.25 Time and again it would seem that as long as
the king was compensated for the misdemeanour, whether or not the widow had consented to
the union was of no consequence. Of course the events leading to the fine are impossible
to ascertain, but it is certainly possible that Joan was pressured into a marriage
against her will.

⁋7Such a bad situation could be made worse if a new bride found herself held personally
accountable for partaking in the ceremony. In 1220 the crown took all the land of
Helewise, previously the wife of Hugh Poinz, into its possession because she married
without the king’s license. The phrasing of this entry is particularly interesting,
stating that ‘Helewise has married without the king’s license.’26 It is the only example of its kind in the ten years
covered by this paper, in which a woman is described as actively taking a husband
without the king’s consent. In all the other entries relating to such marriages, it
would seem that the husband is deemed the main, culpable offender. He alone is described
as trespassing against the king27 or as taking a new wife without license of the
crown28 and, as such, is always wholly responsible for the
resulting fine. Such terminology implies a more passive role on the part of the new
bride, which perhaps did not apply in the case of Helewise – hence the confiscation of
her lands. Yet, in a subsequent entry of February 1221, the role of Helewise’s new
husband, Robert de Muscegros is revealed. It is he who ‘made fine with the king by 300
m. for having his benevolence…in that he took to wife Helewise’,29 and it
is he who was to gain full seisin of his wife’s lands after offering security for
payment of the fine.30 Thus, while it is impossible to gauge the extent of
Helewise’s initiative in the marriage, it remains clear from either entry that it is the
king or her husband who stood to benefit financially from the union, with Helewise
having little to gain and much to lose.

⁋8In the light of such examples it is little wonder that widows were still prepared to
fine for the right to stay single or marry whom they wished. Some historians have viewed
such payments as evidence of a direct breech of the charter by the crown. Loengard has
inferred that because ‘a widow could not be compelled to remarry’ it therefore followed
that she ‘need not fine for the freedom not to [be compelled to do
so]’.31 At no point,
however, does the charter directly prohibit widows from paying for matrimonial
privileges. This is in notable contrast to the famous chapter in Magna Carta, which
specifically denied the sale of justice.32 In fact, when it stated in clause eight that ‘no widow
shall be forced to marry…provided that she gives security not to marry
without…consent’, might it not be tacitly implied that this security could, or should,
be reinforced and substantiated through a gift or fine? Such payments might not have
been deemed unfair or extortionate in a culture immersed in the feudal traditions of
exchanging gifts and offerings to ratify agreements. It needs also to be stressed that
the Charter acknowledged that the king did still need to consent to the marriage of a
baronial widow, and did not forbid payment for it to be given. Thus, as Michael Ray has
shown, the fine of Margaret de Redvers in 1229 did not breech the Charter since it was
for ‘the freedom to choose whom she liked [as a husband] provided that her groom was not
an enemy of the king.’ 33 There are eleven similar
‘offers for freedom to marry’ in the fine rolls from 1215-1234, four of which appear
before 1225. In three of these four cases the wording reflects that of the Margaret de
Redvers’ entry,34 allowing each widow the right to marry
whomsoever she pleased, so long as her intended spouse was not an enemy of the
crown.35

1.3.
Access to Dower in the Fine Rolls

⁋1The new rights of widows pertaining to remarriage had a direct impact upon the
effective implementation of clause seven in Magna Carta, which related to dower and
inheritance. Before 1215 Loengard asserts that ‘dower and the obligation to remarry had
very frequently been entwined’, for a widow might either lose her dower if she refused a
chosen spouse, or else be forced to surrender it in order to pay the hefty fine to
remain single.36 Although subject to a
number of amendments and additions in later re-issues, the fundamental principle of
chapter seven remained unaltered and should have put an end to such a predicament. It
stated that ‘after her husband’s death, a widow shall have her marriage portion and her
inheritance at once and without any hindrance; nor shall she pay anything for her dower,
her marriage portion, or her inheritance which she and her husband held on the day of
her husband’s death’.37

⁋2In the majority of cases between 1216 and 1224 widows do indeed appear to have been
receiving their dower with relative ease.38 There are fifteen widows who feature in fines dealing with their
dower or inheritance to be entered in the fine rolls,39 yet alongside these cases stand fifty relief payments
offered by heirs who have recently inherited, as well as a further twenty-nine
additional fines to inherit where relief is not specifically mentioned. Although their
existence is purely speculative, it is thus possible that in many of these cases a
recently bereaved widow might be in the process of receiving her dower and further
property rights unhindered and thus unmentioned. Moreover, in ten out of the sixteen
cases related to the fifteen widows mentioned above, the widows appear to be in the
process of gaining immediate access to their share, with absolutely no question of
having to pay to do so.40 In six of these ten successful dower cases the widow’s
rights are automatically safeguarded on the fine rolls within the conditions of an
heir’s inheritance.41 In a typical example from 1218 it is stipulated that,
‘Vitalis Engayne gives to the king 10 m. for having seisin of the manor of
Upminster…saving the rightful dower in the same manor to Ada.’42 Another notably successful dower transaction, in which a
recently bereaved widow received favourable treatment and swift compensation, concerns
the widow of Gilbert de Tany. Following his death in 1221 all of his lands and chattels
were taken into the king’s hands, preceding the partition of the estate between his
heirs. Yet in spite of their confiscation, his widow was immediately granted a
‘reasonable estover’43 of these chattels until her dower was assigned by her
husband’s heirs later in the year.44

⁋3However, in six cases the widows do seem to have found themselves in a difficult and
less straightforward predicament. Following the death of Adam Butler in 1224 his widow
Joan successfully received her dower land.45 However, she was less lucky in gaining access to her
marriage-portion. Her husband had leased it out for a period of eight years, only four
of which had passed by the time of his death. Joan found herself having to pay a
five-mark fine to gain back this one carucate of land, which was, in fact, rightfully
hers all along.46 In the three instances when a widow’s dower and
inheritance were disputed between her and a second party, the fine rolls offer scant
background information to the proceedings, making it impossible to ascertain whose claim
is justified. Yet, in two of these three cases one finds the widow offering the
half-mark to have the case brought before the courts,47 highlighting the conviction women had in
their inherent right to receive their dower and marriage portion following their
husbands’ deaths.48

⁋4In Loengard’s extensive research on similar cases, she has asserted that ‘many or most
dower actions were begun in earnest and were vigorously litigated.’49 She has stressed the inherent family dynamics
underlying disputes – ‘dower was a family affair, and it was as much subject to mistake,
anger, dislike and affection as any other intra-family arrangement.’50 Accordingly, there were a number of ways
‘disgruntled sons and stepsons, brothers-in-law, and lords [could] circumvent chapter
[seven]: by simple inaction, by negotiation, by collusive suit [or] by
violence’.51 Through raising objections
that questioned the legitimacy of a marriage, or the extent of the land a widow claimed,
relatives had the power to stop a widow’s access to her dower or make entry to it an
arduous and expensive process, thus forcing her through the courts to stake her claim.
Loengard has described how ‘many heirs’ attempted to frighten and buy off widows due to
an inherent hostility to the concept of dower, which ‘ran counter to the strong
desire…of feudal England to keep landholdings undivided in the hands of the
heir.’52 With such a
mountain of possible problems facing them, it seems miraculous that, in such a climate,
any widow got her dower at all. Yet, the fact that a great number did so with
ease53 lends
itself to the possibility that Loengard has overemphasised the opposition and hostility
facing widows in connection with their dower. In fact, a widow’s right to dower was very
much enshrined within the laws and customs of the kingdom. This view is reinforced by a
fine roll entry of 16 February 1217, which stated that Thomas Murdac ‘is to assign
rightful dower to Matilda who was the wife of Robert Murdac [his brother], which falls
to her according to the customs of England.’54

⁋5If Loengard is possibly too pessimistic over dower, the reverse may be the case when it
comes to the Charter’s stipulation in clause eleven that a widow should not have to pay
the debts of her late husband out of her dower.55 Although it was dropped from the later re-issues
Loengard belives that ‘the provision appears to have reflected widespread practice, and
the thinking behind it persisted.’56 Yet,
on the three occasions when the issue of a widow’s liability for her husband’s debt is
raised in the fine rolls, each time this ‘widespread practice’ appears ambiguous and
unresolved. In September 1223 the justices were still to decide if Eustachia de
Courtenay should pay the debts owed by her husband to the Jews ‘when she holds
nothing…formerly of her husband…except by way of dower,’57 and in 1224 the widow of Roger of Beauchamp had her
dower land replevied to her, it having been previously confiscated by the king to pay
the debts of her husband’s grandfather, of whom Roger was heir.58 Thus, nearly a decade after the clause was dropped from
Magna Carta the courts were, in fact, still unsure whether to hold a widow accountable
for her husband’s debts, when her assigned dower was all she held of his lands.59

1.4.
Widows and Wardships in the Fine Rolls

⁋1Over a century before Magna Carta Henry I’s Coronation Charter of 1100 had pledged to
widows custody of their underage children, along with the land that pertained to them.
It had proved an empty promise and was not to be repeated in 1215 – ‘a century of royal
exploitation meant that control over wardship was something no king would give up.’
Widows obtained control over wardships only occasionally during Henry III’s reign, and
less frequently than in the preceding century.60 In the reigns of Richard and John, 15.6 percent of
recorded fines for wardships were offered by widows, compared with only seven percent of
the total recorded fines after 1217.61 I have found only five examples
of widows securing wardship over their children between 1215 and 1225.62 Two of these fines are recorded at only ten marks63 and fifteen marks,64 with a further two standing at eighty marks65 and forty marks each.66 The latter sum not only gave the widow wardship, but also guaranteed her
the freedom to marry whom she wanted. Such sums are much lower than the ‘intense
exploitation of wardships…as a financial resource [under John]’. The £9,213 recorded in
proffers in the ten years under Richard had risen to £24,253 in the first ten years of
John’s reign.67 While an element of this large increase
can be attributed to inflation it was also due to ‘human miscalculation’, which led John
to ‘foolishly turn patronage management into a weapon.’68 In 1208, for example he charged Isolte, the widow
of Henry Biset, £1000 to have custody of her late husband’s heirs and freedom over her
marriage, if the king consented to her choice.69 However, such astronomical fines were not altogether
abolished during Henry’s reign. Six women fined in sums ranging from 1000 to 10,000
marks for custody of heirs and one of these widows appears in the fine roll for
1221.70 Isabella de
Bolbec, widow of the Earl of Oxford, offered 6,000 marks to gain custody of her late
husband’s lands and their son and heir.71 This extraordinarily large sum doubtless relates to the
value of the Oxford lands, but it may also reflect ‘the deep attachment between a
widowed mother and her infant children’, and the lengths that some were prepared to go
in order to prevent ‘the harsh intrusion into that relationship’ which royal lordship
could cause.72 Such an
intrusion is visible in 1220 when William de Cantilupe fined in 500 marks to gain the
wardship of the heirs of Robert de Chandos along with all the latter’s lands.73 While he is told to provide Robert’s wife Sarra with her
dower, one can imagine the pain she must have felt at losing control over her son Robert
who was aged only ten years old at the time.74 She would, no doubt, have been powerless to resist
such an important royal official and prominent member of the minority government.

⁋2However, the one-dimensional view of wardships evident in the fine rolls does not
reveal the complex relationships and negotiations that could underpin these
arrangements. One gets a tantalising glimpse of a widow’s possible involvement in the
proceedings in a fine roll entry of 1223. When Simon de Senlis made a thirty-mark fine
with the king for the custody of the land and heirs of Richard Crossbowman it was ‘at
the instance of Isabella’, who was the latter’s wife and mother of the heir.75 It is impossible to know how often a widow might have
played an assertive role in such preparations – encouraging a political or familial ally
to fine for wardship so that she might maintain an active role in the child’s future.
Similarly, if an individual at court received a wardship as ‘a recipient of royal
favour’ they regularly proved willing to grant custody back to those with a more vested
connection in the child, thus ‘acting as a conduit for the transmission of the king’s
feudal rights from the centre back into localities [with] widows and kin especially
benefit[ing] from this secondary distribution of feudal rights.’76 Such private arrangements would, of
course, be undetectable in the entries of fine rolls.

⁋3When viewed in its entirety, the evidence from the fine rolls, in the first decade
after Magna Carta, does appear to show a marked improvement in the quality of widows’
lives following John’s death. Although the practice of fining widows for freedom over
their remarriages continued, it was implemented less often and at a far lower rate. As a
result a significantly larger number of ‘formidable widows’77 emerged in the thirteenth
century when compared with the twelfth, with women such as Isabel, countess of Arundel
and Margaret de Lacy enjoying long, independent and lucrative widowhoods.78 Yet it was not just baronial widows who
felt able to defend their rights and assert themselves following Magna Carta. There are,
in the fine rolls, over a dozen instances of seemingly non-baronial widows purchasing
writs and ‘pones’ to initiate legal procedures against those they
felt owed them money, chattels or land.79 In 1221 a
particularly defiant widow named Juliana had a writ to summon eleven men and one woman
before the justices to answer for an array of debts she felt were hers by
right.80

⁋4However, evidence of widows struggling through these same courts to access their dower
highlights that while dower and inheritance were free in principle, a widow could still
have to pay significant court-costs to enter them. It is also clear that, following
Magna Carta, the crown could still use a widow’s dower as a bargaining tool regarding
her remarriage. While the king could no longer distrain a widow to force her to accept a
husband, by the end of the thirteenth century the latter could only enter her dower
lands after swearing an oath to the king that she would not marry without royal licence
– ‘which in practice meant swearing an oath to the king that she would not
marry.’81 Thus, for
all the undeniable benefits of Magna Carta there were still considerable loopholes that
the king could exploit and widows often still found themselves at the mercy of a male
overlord, whether he be a member of their own family or the king himself.

Footnotes

1.

J.C. Holt, The Northerners: A Study in the Reign
of King John (Oxford, 1961), p. 3. Back to context...

2.

In the 1225 draft of Magna Carta these two chapters
were combined in chapter 7. Back to context...

3.

J. S. Loengard,
‘Rationabilis Dos: Magna Carta and the Widow’s “Fair Share” in the Earlier Thirteenth
Century’, in S.S. Walker (ed.), Wife and Widow in Medieval England
(Michigan, 1993), pp. 59–80; idem, ‘“Of the Gift of her Husband”: English Dower and
its consequences in the Year 1200’, in J. Kirshner and S. F. Wemple (eds),
Women of the Medieval World: Essays in Honour of John H. Mundy
(Oxford, 1985), pp. 215–55. Back to context...

J.C. Holt, Magna Carta (Cambridge, 1965), pp. 319–21.
The allegiance owed by widows of under-tenants to their lord, as opposed to widows of
tenants-in-chief who owed allegiance to the king, shows how the charter reached down
through the social hierarchy, although we have little evidence of how it was
implemented at this level. Back to context...

7.

S.L. Waugh,
The Lordship of England: Royal Wardships and Marriages in English Society and
Politics 1217–1327 (New Jersey, 1988), p. 86. These promises were largely
not adhered to. To cite one example, in ‘1189 Richard had seized the lands of [the
widow] Hawise, daughter and heir of [the] earl of Aumale because she refused to marry
William de Forz’. She relented soon after. Back to context...

One such rebel baron who felt particularly aggrieved by a
marriage-related fine was Geoffrey de Mandeville, whose opposition to the king in 1215
was directly related to, if not caused by, the extortionate fine of 20,000 marks
foisted upon him, in order that he might have as his wife Isabella, countess of
Gloucester – John’s own previously discarded wife. For further details on this case
see Holt, Magna Carta , pp. 122–25. Back to context...

There are nine further cases in the fine rolls referring
directly to the remarriage of widows, in which consent is never mentioned. In six of
these instances the widow in question has been married without the king’s licence, for
which her new spouse fines. For references and a discussion relating to these six
cases see below and footnote 24. In a seventh case (CFR, 1217–18, no. 191), the king has sold his licence to marry a widow named
Christina to Jocelin of Wells, bishop of Bath and Glastonbury, again without
mentioning the necessity to gain her consent before she weds. For the final two of
these nine cases, involving Margaret de Say and a widow names Agnes, see below. Back to context...

18.

I. J. Sanders,
English Baronies: A study of their Origin and Descent 1086-1327 ,
(Oxford, 1960), p. 55. Back to context...

I have found six cases, occurring on average
once every couple of years: CFR, 1218–19, no. 19; CFR, 1219–20, no. 84; CFR, 1220–21, no. 21; CFR, 1221–22, no. 211; CFR, 1222–23, no. 51; CFR 1223–24, no. 421. Waugh, The Lordship of England, p. 89, stresses
that marrying without the king’s license was uncommon before and after Magna Carta and
fines related to this offence are evident on only twenty occasions in the
thirteenth-century. Back to context...

25.

CFR, 1218–19, no. 19. Waugh, The Lordship of England, pp. 88–91,
asserts that Henry now only distrained land to ensure payment of a fine, a fact
attested by this fine roll entry. Back to context...

The Pipe Roll of
1221 confirms that it was Robert and not Helewise, who was liable for the fine, due to
his having taken Helewise in marriage without the licence of the king. Back to context...

30.

CFR, 1220–21, no. 88. Interestingly, in the third and final entry relating to the
union, when the sheriff of Somerset and Dorset returned their lands, he was ordered to
‘cause Robert and Helewise to have full seisin without delay of all their lands’:
CFR, 1220–21, no. 221. It is unusual for the wife to be personally named as sharing
in the property. Similar entries commonly state that a husband is to gain seisin of
all his wife’s property once the king has been suitably compensated for the illegal
marriage. As for example, in CFR, 1218–19, no. 19. Back to context...

The exception to this rule is found in entry CFR, 1221–22, no. 111. In this instance the widow Rosamund made fined in twenty marks
‘for marrying herelf to whomever she will wish’, with no specific qualification
relating to the king’s enemies. Back to context...

35.

CFR, 1217–18, no. 88. In this example Amy, the former wife of Roger of Messing, gave
five marks ‘for having license to marry whosoever she wishes, save for the king’s
enemies.’ The further three fines stand at 100 shillings (CFR, 1220–21, no. 179), twenty marks (CFR, 1221–22, no. 111) and forty marks (CFR, 1217–18, no. 71), although the larger sum of forty marks is also for rights of
wardship. Back to context...

Holt, Magna Carta , pp. 318–19. The 1216 draft
was expanded to provide a suitable home for a widow if her husband’s house was a
castle, and in 1217 she was also entitled to ‘reasonable estover of common’. It also
specified precisely what constituted her dower – ‘a third of all her husband’s
lands…in his lifetime, unless a smaller share was given her at the church
door.’ Back to context...

38.

One widow struggling with receipt of her
dower in the fine rolls is Isabella of Angoulême. However, due to the exceptional
political circumstances surrounding this case I have not included it in my
calculations. Back to context...

39.

References for these fifteen
widows are as follows: CFR, 1216–17, no. 6; CFR, 1217–18, nos. 36, 103, 106; CFR, 1218–19, nos. 50, 321; CFR, 1219–20, no. 7; CFR, 1220–21, no. 226. These two following entries concern Leticia, widow of William
de Cahaignes: CFR, 1221–22, nos. 181, 182; CFR, 1222–23, nos. 124. 263;CFR 1223–24, no. 109. Margaret, the widow of Adam Butler, is found receiving her
dower from the king in CFR 1223–24, no. 275, and appears again fining with the king to gain seisin of her
marriage portion in CFR 1223–24, no. 375. The final widow, Emma, offers the king half a mark to have her
case heard before the judges at Westminster, concerning her marriage portion: CFR, 1219–20, no. 148. Back to context...

CFR, 1220–21, no. 318. In another successful case (CFR, 1218–19, no. 321) that highlights the inherent right of a widow to her dower,
Margaret de Say was to be granted her dower ‘without delay’ following her husband’s
death, before the sheriff confiscated the rest of her late husband’s land to hand over
to the king. Back to context...

See the cases of Alice of
Dodbrooke (CFR, 1217–18, no. 103) and Emma, who was the wife of Maurice of London (CFR, 1219–20, no. 148). The former case concerns the widow’s dower and the latter
her marriage portion. In CFR, 1218–19, no. 50, a widow named Muriel finds herself the defendant in a dispute
over the assessment of her dower. Back to context...

48.

The final two cases which involve widows struggling to access
their dower relate to issues surrounding their former husbands’ debts to the crown.
See below for a brief discussion of these cases. Back to context...

While this is certainly true of the dower cases found in the fine rolls,
evidence in the eyre and bench rolls may reveal a different picture. Back to context...

54.

CFR, 1216–17, no. 6. The ‘customs’ described here could refer to those now
specifically stipulated in chapter seven of Magna Carta, or to the more general
customs of a third. In contrast to the situation in England, the government was happy
to charge widows in Ireland for their dower where no provisions were in place, Eva,
widow of Phillip de Braose having to pay 100 marks to enter her dower lands in the
manor of Grene: CFR, 1219–20, no. 263. Back to context...

55.

Holt, Magna Carta ,
pp. 320–21. The chapter states that ‘if a man dies owing a debt to the Jews, his wife
may have her dower and pay nothing of that debt…Debts owing to others than Jews shall
be dealt with likewise.’ Back to context...

In
a further instance (CFR 1223–24, no. 368) the sheriff of Leicestershire is ordered to place in respite,
until his future account at the Exchequer, ‘the demand he made from [the widow]
Amabilia for the debts of the Jews from the land she holds of the tenement of Richard
of Foxton’ – her former husband. However, as this land is not specified as dower, she
may, in fact, hold it by different means. Back to context...

Waugh, The Lordship of England,
pp. 196–97. He believes this reduction shows a shift in emphasis towards patronage,
despite the fact it would have been simpler to sell rights of wardship to the widows
who already had the children in their custody. Back to context...

62.

CFR, 1218–19, no. 242. In this sixth case a final decision is yet to be made, and
Ida is in the process of fighting for the wardship of Walter de Groton’s heir against
his widow. Back to context...

CFR, 1217–18, no. 72. The fifth and final entry concerning wardship (CFR, 1221–22, no. 19), involved the vast sum of 6,000 marks and is discussed
above. Back to context...

67.

T.K. Keefe, ‘Proffers for Heirs and Heiresses in the Pipe Rolls: Some
Observations on Indebtedness in the Years Before the Magna Carta (1180–1212)’,
Haskins Society Journal (1993), p. 104. When these figures are
compared with the average of 94 marks charged to widows for wardship in John’s reign,
they confirm Waugh’s view that ‘Henry III and his successors…did not exploit a widows’
desire to keep her children in order to extract excessive fines’, Waugh, The
Lordship of England, p. 197. Back to context...

CFR, 1221–22, no. 19. G.E Cockayne, The Complete Peerage or A History of the
House of Lords and All its Members From the Earliest Times, ed. H.A.
Doubleday, Geoffrey H. White & Lord H. De Waldon, vol. X (London, 1945), pp.
210–15. Hugh, the heir, was probably aged eleven in 1221, staying in his mother’s
custody until 1231. Back to context...

For a
detailed study on the life of Margaret de Lacy see L.J Wilkinson, ‘Pawn and Political
Player: Observations on the Life of a Thirteenth-Century Countess’, Historical
Research (2000), pp.105–23. Back to context...

79.

There are in fact seventeen such cases:
CFR, 1217–18, nos. 210, 266; CFR, 1218–19, nos. 43, 56, 114, 141, 217, 242, 324; CFR, 1219–20, nos. 148, 175; CFR, 1220–21, nos. 12, 113, 196, 279, 286; CFR, 1222–23, no. 259; There are a further five appeals made by widows accusing men
of murdering their husbands: CFR, 1218–19, nos. 143, 403; CFR, 1219–20, no. 120; CFR, 1220–21, no. 201; CFR 1223–24, no. 130. Although it is often difficult to identify with certainly the
social status of such women, the relatively cheap price of purchasing a writ (standing
at between half a mark to a mark) coupled with the fact that none of the widows found
purchasing these writs are identified as members of baronial families in Sanders, has
led to me to speculate that they come from a lower social strata. Back to context...